


From Afar

by rororonanlynch (ChessPargeter)



Category: Raven Cycle - Maggie Stiefvater
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe- No Supernatural, Artists, First Meetings, M/M, Pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-22
Updated: 2018-01-22
Packaged: 2019-03-07 19:36:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,519
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13441854
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ChessPargeter/pseuds/rororonanlynch
Summary: A weird guy keeps looking at Adam. He can't figure out why.





	From Afar

**Author's Note:**

> Came up with this while chatting with NewYearsEveBaby02 and had to write it. It was a good break from my snowbaz requests. Ridiculous and cheesy? Yes. But those are the most fun to write :D

Adam was pretty sure he was being stalked.

Not that he had a baseline comparison. Nor did this fit the general definition of stalking. No one was following him home or taking weird pictures or leaving threatening messages on his phone. But every time he sat in the Starbucks on Harvard campus after class to study (and avoid his roommate), he swore he was being watched. By one specific person.

It started a couple weeks ago. Adam sat in the corner like always, textbook in his lap and Starbucks cup in hand. Growing up in a home like his, Adam was always hyper aware of his surroundings. At some point, he felt a weird prickling on the side of his face. Like someone was watching him. When he looked up, only one person moved.

He didn’t look like a typical Harvard student. Not clean cut and smelling of Daddy’s money. (Mind you, neither did Adam.) But this guy looked like he belonged in a punk band in someone's garage. His dark hair was shaved to a buzzcut. He wore a black muscle tank and matching leather jacket. The sharp lines of his face looked beautiful in a dangerous way. And the vicious hooks of a strange tattoo peeked out through his collar. When Adam turned to him, his piercing blue eyes suddenly flicked away and down into his lap.

Adam wrote it off as a fluke. Just a coincidence a guy with cheekbones like a Calvin Klein model was gazing at him. That was the only conclusion that made sense.

But it just kept happening. Adam would sit in the café for about ten minutes or so, then get that watched feeling again. When he looked up, there was punk band boy, flicking his eyes away suddenly, pretending he’d never been looking at all. It was getting...odd.

“I swear, Blue,” Adam muttered over lunch, “this guy is always watching me.”

She raised an eyebrow. “Or maybe, you just _want_ this guy to be watching you. You did say he was super hot.”

Adam flushed slightly, looking at his salad. “Well yeah. But I’m not seeing things, I swear.”

“M-hm.”

“Oh shut up.” He stabbed a romaine leaf aggressively. “It’s just so weird. I mean, why would he be watching me? Does he enjoy observing an overtired student trying to get his readings done?”

Blue shrugged dramatically, shoulders coming up all the way up to her ears. “I don’t know. Maybe it’s some weird fetish.”

“Gross, Blue.”

“Hey, you asked!” She sighed, leaning her cheek on her fist. “Listen, Adam, I know this is hard for you to comprehend, but maybe this guy thinks you’re cute and likes you.”

Adam shuffled his feet uncomfortably. He’d never considered himself cute, or deserving of affection from anyone like this guy. Why would a guy who could have anyone he wanted pick someone like Adam? Tired, aged looking before his time, Henrietta dust through and through. Not someone worthy of staring. Not worthy of a crush.

“Yeah, right,” he muttered. “If he likes me or something, why doesn’t he just come up and say hi?”

“Maybe he’s shy,” Blue sighed. “Or out of touch with his feelings because of society’s pressure for boys to not be ‘hysterically emotional’ like women and keep everything bottled up.”

Adam smirked. “Is everything about gender politics with you?”

She jabbed her fork at him. “Everything _is_ about gender politics, period, Adam Parrish. Have you learned nothing from me?”

He laughed with his head thrown back. Earning a cherry tomato flicked at his face.

* * *

 

Adam had been sitting in the Starbucks for over an hour. He’d been trying to study, but it was actually harder to focus without the guy there. For the first time in three week, he wasn’t there. It was worrying. Had something happened to him? Was he okay? Did he just not like Adam anymore? Adam felt selfish for finding the last one the most upsetting.

He couldn’t focus on his textbook. Not while he was here, waiting for a mysterious guy to show up and stare at him. He snapped the heavy book shut and packed up his things. He could probably read better in his shitty dorm with his loud roommate than here. With heavy stomps, he walked out of the store. He was so focused on his stomping away that he wasn’t looking where he was going. And stomped right into someone else.

They both yelled and tumbled back. Adam landed flat on his ass, textbook hitting with a thunk. He groaned and looked up. Then his heart promptly stopped.

There he was. Punk band member stalker guy, also flat on his ass, staring at Adam with wide, very shocked blue eyes. Adam’s own eyes drifted downwards. Between them, next to Adam’s textbook, was a black covered book. A sketchbook. And it was open to a page that made his breath hitch.

It was unmistakable. There was no logical way it could be anything else. There was a pencil sketch of Adam. Sitting on his Starbucks chair, one leg crossed over the other, textbook on his lap, coffee cup in hand. It was rough and raw, but definitely not without thought. The eraser marks showed the man had gone over and over again to make sure he got the image just right. The sketch showed special attention to Adam’s face and hands. His pencil shading strongly outlined his fine cheekbones and long fingers wrapped around the cup. The picture demonstrated such dedication and care that Adam never thought anyone would show towards him. Especially in an art piece of him.

He was speechless. Slowly, he reached forward to pick up the sketchbook. Punk guy didn’t stop him. With shaking hands, Adam looked through the other pages. Though there were strange abstract works interspersed, the majority of the pages were filled with similar sketches of Adam. Some were full body. Others were close ups of his face with different expressions, or his hands, holding the Starbucks cup or a pencil. The pages were dated back three weeks. As long as Adam had been seeing him at the café.

Adam slowly looked up. The other boy was still frozen. His hands were clenched into fists on the sidewalk, a subtle pink blush crawling up his neck. _Holy shit,_ he thought, _Blue was right._

Adam stood up, and punk boy followed. He shoved his hands in his leather jacket, looking down. His combat boot was jittering nervously.

“So,” he said, dragging out the ‘o’. “This is why you’ve been looking at me for three weeks, huh?”

The man nodded and grunted slightly.

“Do you speak? Or is sketching and staring your only forms of communication?”

“I can speak, jackass,” he replied. His voice was low and gruff, just like Adam thought he would sound. It matched the rest of his aesthetic.

“Okay, good. So do you go to school here? Cause you don’t look like the typical Ivy League assholes I deal with.”

Punk man scoffed, kicking the sidewalk. “Yeah, sorta. I’m taking a few art classes this term. My friend’s idea. He said I was too good not to. I wasn’t for it at first, but he convinced me.”

Adam took one last look at the sketches. “Well, he’s right. You’re really good.” He snapped the sketchbook shut. The boy’s face turned even more red. Adam smirked and offered the book back to the punk, which he took. Then he offered his outstretched hand. “I should probably formerly introduce myself. I’m Adam.”

He looked at Adam’s outstretched hand a bit scared at first. But he still slowly took it. His hands were rough, even against Adam’s calloused one. For someone who wore jeans that looked more expensive than Adam’s yearly pay, his skin was hardened, like from hard labour. Maybe there was more to this man than Adam thought.

“Ronan,” he said. Their hands fell away. “So, wanna get some coffee? Instead of me staring at you like some fucking creeper?

Adam barked out a laugh. He smiled crookedly, half his mouth pulled up. “I think I’d like that.”

Once Adam had collected the rest of his stuff, they walked back towards the Starbucks. Ronan kept his sketchbook tucked under his arm.

“So where are you from?” Adam asked. “Local?”

Ronan shook his head. “No. Singer’s Falls, Virginia.”

Adam chuckled. “What a coincidence. I’m from Henrietta”

His black eyebrows shot up to his shaved hairline. “No shit. We weren’t that far away, huh?”

“Guess not. Weird we never saw each other.”

Ronan shrugged with one shoulder. “Yeah. But we’re seeing each other now so who gives a fuck?”

Adam saw the small smile pulling at the corner of his lips, and playful twinkle in his blue eyes. He was right. They were here now, together, and Adam looked forward to getting to know this Ronan guy better. He had a feeling they’d get along very well.

“Yeah, you're right. Who gives a fuck?”

Ronan gave an approving laugh. They walked into the Starbucks together, and didn’t leave their table until closing time.


End file.
